


My Heart is Yours, Forever.

by Renee561



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Past Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Soft Jaime Lannister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25866778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renee561/pseuds/Renee561
Summary: Hiding in front of you, for you refuse the truth.Love me, but do it gently. My heart cannot bear your rejection.Rejection, my love? I have loved you for so long now. All I wish is to love you until my heart's last beat.For it is yours. And only yours.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 28
Kudos: 101
Collections: Jaime x Brienne Fic Exchange 2020





	My Heart is Yours, Forever.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [majicienne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/majicienne/gifts).



> I have no excuse as to why I've not posted this before now, but I do hope you enjoy this all the same. 
> 
> Thanks to my amazing beta!
> 
> More notes at a later date.

Jaime rode as quick as he could; he had to go North. There wasn't a choice, not now. More than that, more than anything, he wanted to do the right thing. He no longer wanted to be on the wrong side.

Cersei certainly wasn't going to give her throne to anyone, or to think of the greatest good. All the Kingdoms, all she cared for was that Throne of Swords, and she was more than welcome to it.

He closed his eyes for a second, his heart cracking at the loss of his sister. She had been lost to him for so long, but he had ignored it. He had to, for without Cersei as his mirror, how could he judge his actions? He wanted nothing more than to say there was another, another that resembled him in actions if not in looks.

His heart beat faster as he thought of his wench. Seeing her at the pit had filled him with joy, but he hadn't let it consume him. He couldn't because Cersei had been watching closely. He can’t help but think she knew before he did. He only thought about it after Riverrun. And still he returned to Cersei, because that was what he did. He always returned to Cersei. She had been his other half for so long, what was he after all this time on his own?

-

The temperature dropped and he gave his last coin to get a warmer cloak. His hair had grown, his beard too, darker than his usual blonde locks; no one would recognize him.

Hell, he didn't even recognize himself. The reflection on the man he was...and the man he wanted to be took two leagues. He wanted to be the man he once was, the knight he had given up after he gained a new name for himself. _Kingslayer_ , _Oathbreaker_.

He was not that man anymore, and he wanted a chance to prove it. There was also the matter of his heart. For so long he thought it was Cersei's, and would always be Cersei's, but in the night it was not his darling sister he longed for at his side. It was not his sister he longed to wrap his red cloak around. He was no longer a man of the Kingsguard, hadn't been since before Riverrun, and it was there he met the truth of his heart. The truth of who the organ truly belonged to.

The Maid of Tarth. Brienne. His heart, if she wanted it, was hers.

He'd gladly give it, if she would have him. But would she? Would she want a one-handed oathbreaker for a husband? She had once claimed he had honor in him, in that tent at Riverrun. That she had seen it. But did she still?

After their last entanglement at the Dragon Pit when he so callously brushed her off because Cersei was watching, he wasn't sure. Cersei had watched him, watching Brienne, watched how he longed to say something more to her. To be with her even then. And every day since he waved goodbye as she sailed away from Riverrun.

-

He watched her; she was comfortable here, almost at home in the North. Yet as he watched she kept gripping her sword, the one he gave her. The one that she had called _Oathkeeper_ for him. The one she tried to return to him.

He--he couldn't let her. For there was more attached to the sword than he could admit to her then, for it was in that moment he realized everything. It left him near breathless.

_It's yours, it will always be yours_. The sword, his heart, it was all the same. They were hers.

\----

She watched him whenever he wasn't looking. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her palms sweated and her breath caught. He was here. _He was here_ , and they didn't have to be on opposite sides anymore.

There was more than that, she was aware. _But you love him._ Yes. She had for so long, she doubted even if she could rip her own heart from her chest and crush it in her palm that she would stop loving him.

She loves him. She would always love him.

But like Renly, it was not to be, for he was Cersei's; his perfect twin, the mother of his children, and the owner of his heart for so long. He couldn't return her feelings, for he was Cersei's and would always be.

It was foolish of her, naive even, to believe he came North for anything more than to keep his word. He was a man of honor. She saw it, she believed it. Now they would too. He may have slain his King, but he saved his city.

"--if you'll have me?" His words stole her breath. She looked into his eyes, trying to see something that would never be reflected back, yet she looked. She found nothing out of the ordinary and the disappointment choked her more than his words. She nodded and left him there. She had other things to do. For instance, nurse her wounded heart.

-

The fire and the wine warned her, the company even more so. Even if she had to put up with Giantsbane. The man couldn't take no for an answer. She could never... even knowing Jaime could never return her feelings, she could never be with the man. She didn't love him. She had only loved two men in her life. Renly and Jaime. And while neither returned her feelings, she would never settle for someone she didn't love. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

"Do you want to be a knight or not? _Kneel_." The question before had thrown her, and for one moment she had thought he was mocking her as he had once. There hadn't been a mock at her expense since he arrived and it confused her. It left her unsure of what his game was. What did he hope to gain? Where had her Jaime gone?

Pod nodded at her and hesitantly she got up, rubbing the lion on her sword, before she stood in front of him and did as he asked. She kneeled.

"Arise, _Ser_ Brienne of Tarth, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms." She stood and as she gazed at Jaime, with tears and a smile on her face. She wanted to pretend he was looking at her with love in his eyes, even if it was only fondness for...for a friend. They were friends. At least she believed they were.

She only broke eye contact because she remembered the others in the room. She couldn't contain her joy. He made her a knight, the one thing in the world she wanted. Well, the other would never happen, but this...he gave her this. And she would always cherish it.

\----

They fought and they won. More importantly, they were _alive_.

He looked at her, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her and more besides. He hadn't told her his feelings, but he'd been working on showing her.

Trusting her to help him with the Dragon Queen, not mocking her, fighting under her command, asking her to join them for wine, knighting her, and fighting throughout the night by her side, the one place he never wanted to leave.

He hoped that she saw these as acts of love, as a way to show her he means it when he finally tells her he loves her. So she won’t outright laugh at him to his face as she was sure to.

He was not ignorant of her walls. Her high walls around her person, around her heart. He knew, for he too had walls, or he had before she broke them down. And now he wished to tell her.

-

He made his way to the hot springs under the castle. He needed to clean himself and he wanted quiet to piece together his courage before he faced her. Before he spilled his very soul to her.

He groaned aloud when he sank deep into the hot water. It was much better than being drawn a bath. The water would never run cold. He closed his eyes for a minute, trying to absorb the warmth into every cell of his.

"Oh...I thought you would be in your chambers, Ser Jaime." It was her.

He lazily opened his eyes to see that she had a coat on to cover her. Her armor must have been back in her chambers, which weren't that far from his own.

"No, everyone would be needing one, and I for one much prefer not having to scrunch in the tub after such a battle. You could join me. It's not as if we haven't shared a bath before, wench," he said before closing his eyes again. He wanted her to stay, but he was also sure she would think he was mocking her, but he wasn't. Not this time.

He could feel the indecision and with a heavy sigh opened his eyes just so he could peek beneath his lashes at what she'd do.

"If you’d rather not, I won't be offended, Ser Brienne. I know you are a highborn lady, and it would be quite the scandal if you're caught, especially with the Kingslayer, Oathbreaker, a man with shit for honor. The North has a long memory, and tonight's battle won't change the past or what they think of me," he told her with a candidness he truly didn't feel.

The fact they judged him was of no merit; he'd been judged his whole life. Her opinion, on the other hand, mattered to him the most.

He closed his eyes and sunk deeper within the hot waters, submerging himself so he didn't hear her footsteps walking away. He couldn't stand to watch her steps take her father away from him.

He was tired of the longing in his chest and the feelings on his tongue, none of which she wanted. He wasn't stupid; he could tell the wildling wanted her. Who wouldn't? She was strong, and she was kind, and she was everything that he thought a knight should be. Virtue, innocence, still believing in the good of the world. It was like a moth to flame for him. Especially coming from her pretty eyes. He knew that even her island's waters paled in comparison.

Therefore, when he finally reemerged, rubbing the blood and water from his face, he was surprised to find that instead of leaving she had joined him, her body from her neck down hidden from his view.

He couldn't help the smile that graced his face, and the quip that passed his lips. "Don't worry, my good Ser, I shall not faint in this bath this time."

She merely raised an eyebrow at him before she dunked her head beneath the water's line.

The lye bar lay innocently behind him, and yet he made no move to use it. He instead simply closed his eyes and let the water wash away the blood of the battle and soothe the ache fighting gave him. The silence, once driving him to madness, now became his peace. Even if the energy under his skin from battle begged for a release, inadvertently more carnal in nature. He would settle for the spring's warmth rather than try and make it seem he only wanted her for one thing when it was more. Much more.

He didn't just want her in his bed. More than that, more than his very life, he wanted her as his wife.

It would never be. He'd settle for silence, even if his heart was screaming for her love.

\-----

Brienne didn't know what to say. Every cell in her body screamed at her to open her mouth to rebut his words, to contradict his view, but she couldn't open her mouth before he submerged himself under the water. Blood was still caked in his hair, and her fingers almost itched to run through his strands to remove the foreign substance herself.

He had saved her more than once tonight, and she could recall her hypnotic state as she heard his screams, fighting her way through bodies to get to him. Dead or alive, she didn't know as she cut her way through to the other side. _Jaime, I must get to Jaime_ was the only thought in her head.

He had smiled before he killed a wight that had gotten past her senses. He clouded her mind, her body, and her heart, the organ longing for him in ways she knew she shouldn't.

They had remained side by side throughout the battle and they had come out alive, as did Podrick, thank the Warrior. Two of the few people she cared about—three, for Lady Sansa had made it as well. She only saw her lady briefly, as Sansa had pointed her in the direction of the springs, a small smile gracing her face as she did. Four escaped the Stranger’s grasp tonight. Though he hadn't been lacking his offerings from the body count outside.

She made a decision and with care Brienne disrobed, carefully climbing into the water, biting back the moan of pleasure she felt as the hot water heated her from the inside out, soothing away her physical aches and washing away the blood from her skin.

She submerged her lower body and rubbed at it with her hands to wash what she could of the evidence of the horror the night had been. So many bodies, so many victims to the Night King's war. Senseless. But they had prevailed and they still had one more to fight, one which worried her more than she could voice.

Cersei was sure to realize that her brother was here. and if she believed him to be alive, that could mean one of two things. She'd send for him, or she would kill him for his desertion.

They hadn't talked of the Queen, of his reasons to ride North despite his sister going back on her word. Though she knew him to be a man of honor and had been there at his trial, she still felt there was more than he was saying, more than he was sharing.

Jaime was many things, honest to a fault not one of his virtues. But would he share them with her if she asked? Did she want to know?

He came up from his submersion, rubbing at his face and hair to clear the blood away, shock in his eyes as he realized she had taken up his offer to join him in the spring. He hid it behind a smile and a quip. Trying to rouse her she was sure; she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She merely rose her brow before dunking her head under the waterline, rubbing at her face to rid her skin of the blood.

As she did, she was reminded of her faults, her broken nose, her large lips, her not-so-feminine hands. They made her ugly, and yet she had stopped wishing for delicate features long ago. She would never be like Lady Sansa, tiny, graceful, beautiful in the eyes of most men. And yet even now as she scrubbed herself as clean as she could without soap, did she not wish for such features.

She was tired, very tired of reminding herself what she could never have. Yet Jaime had invited _her_ into his bath, not another softer woman. Had reminded her that scandal could befall her reputation because she was still in fact a Lady beholden to a house should anyone find them here. Yet he reminded her of another bath they had shared, long ago now. When he had been ill with fever and infection from his mutilation by the Bloody Murmurs. Because of her.

He lied to protect _her_ , he lived to take his revenge, he fought tonight with one hand and _survived_.

She had once thought he was half a god, half a corpse. Maybe he was more god-like than a corpse from what she'd seen this night. She thanked the Gods neither had succumbed to that fate. Many weren't so lucky.

She reemerged, her face wet and the water turning a burnished color from what she could see in the candlelight. She relaxed into the water, not quite leaving the rock's edge. There were steps to where someone could step into the water, but it went around the perimeter of the spring.

She watched Jaime, the contentment on his face as he did the one thing she had never seen from him. He relaxed against the steps, serene almost, every muscle in his body limp, and she wondered if he felt the energy thrumming under his skin as she did. It begged for release. She usually paced her quarters for an hour to make it die down, but tonight it was different.

She hadn't been naked in a bath with him for so long, and this time there weren't their captors watching their every move. It was just them. _Alone_.

Her heart and body longed for him in ways she understood but refused to voice. She was scared, scared of the rejection sure to follow for her request. For her heart to be vulnerable, to allow him to see her in that light, and have him deny her. She didn't know if it would have been a kinder mercy to let her die on the battlefield.

She chose to stay quiet, to not voice what her heart longed to tell him. Ask him to bed her, to love her, to never walk back to his sister's arms again, to stay with her...for however long the gods' willed.

Instead she tried to ignore him, to enjoy the waters. For it would never again happen that they would be here sharing a bath. He would ride away back South once the Dragon decides what will be done with Cersei. His lover, his sister, the mother of his children. All gone if the rumors are to be true.

"I'm sorry, Ser Jaime. About your children. I've heard they...that they are gone now," she hesitantly broke the silence, the thrumming of her skin making it unbearable.

Usually she liked silence, but now she hated it. For she longed to say things to him and if she didn't say something, she would confess things he wouldn't want to hear.

She knew about Joffrey, having witnessed the act herself. But she had heard about the others through her travels and then again on her way back to Lady Sansa from Riverrun, failing her mission to get the Tully army. She knew about the actions of his lover, what she did to the Sept. What she had used. She had seen for herself the destruction the Queen had wrought leaving from the Dragon Pit.

He opened his eyes, cutting into her very soul as they made eye contact, her throat dry at the sudden pain reflected there.

"T-Thank you. Yes, they are gone, all for that fucking throne. Tommen...he saw what his mother did and he couldn't bear it. Cersei is many things, accountable for her actions not one of them. If only I-" he paused as his voice crackled with every word and she wished she had not said anything.

"You would have had to do the same act over again, I imagine. Killing another ruler for daring to use the same substance you spoiled your very reputation for. I'm...I'm glad you didn't have to do that again. Though I'm also glad you weren't there. Maybe then, you wouldn't have had to choose, your honor or her, like now." She looked away, knowing that had been the case when he left. He had chosen his honor over his sister.

He didn't say anything, and she found the water to be much more interesting than his eyes. She wanted to shove the words into her mouth again.

"I didn't. Choose honor over her. In the end, I chose the living over her. My honor isn't what you think," he told her and she looked at him. Looked at his head, for he no longer looked at her, but at the water as she had done.

She knew his deeds. She knew _him_. She knew him better than he thought. And even then she loved him. Loved all of him. His many faults, his virtues, and his trying personality. Jaime was honorable, even if he didn't believe it himself. _She did. With all her heart._

"Maybe not, but I know you. You still chose to fight and come North even when she turned her back on the living for her throne. You came without an army, to be fed to hungry wolves and a dragon who would have killed you had the Starks allowed it. You fought the dead, not letting me die tonight, and you gave me the one thing I've always wanted. To be a knight. I don't call those acts dishonorable, nor should you," she spoke from her heart and she had to bite her tongue to quell the other confession rising to the tip of it.

She dared not look away as her words sunk in. He hunched his shoulders as if bracing himself against them.

The tension in the air, almost as palpable as the thick heat rising from the springs.

"You're right, those acts are honorable," he said, but they felt torn from him, almost as if he had to force himself to say them.

She opened her mouth to say something but closed it quickly; it was better to let it go. She had broken the peace they were both searching for. Maybe it was better to leave. She turned to do just that when he spoke again.

"She tried to kill me," a pause and she stopped, her breath stolen from her lungs. She tried to kill him? Because he wished to be honorable?

"She had the monster Qyburn made her draw his sword, because I wished to honor the vow to come North. I had tried to persuade her, after you asked me to speak with her, but it failed. She didn't want to listen. Tyrion was the one to convince her ultimately, but in the end it had been another lie. There is...a child. Another child in her, or so she says. I'm unsure if she is telling the truth. That it is mine." He spoke softly, still not looking at her but at the hand that was no longer there.

Her heart hurt for him. She knew he loved Cersei. Jaime would do anything for love, already had done heinous things in the name of it. The envy and longing she felt had to be pushed back, locked away or she would run away. She stilled much like she had when he had confessed about the reason people called him Kingslayer, the tale no one really knew.

"After I returned from Riverrun and had seen what she had done, I still went to her bed. It was...it was the thing I wanted at the time. To be back with Cersei, but what I came back to...was a nightmare. She had become what I killed all those years ago." His voice sounded hollow and she only wished she had the courage to reach out to him. Yet she stayed firmly on her side of the spring.

He trusted her, that trust he had told her of years ago in a scene similar to this one. He was showing her trust, trust that she would listen and would not judge him. She would do that, even if what she wanted to do _more_.

"She was Aerys, and I the Queen I failed to protect. I didn't know what else to do. I thought I wanted her, out in the open, and for a time it was everything I had wanted. But after, it became clear I was just another pawn for her to play with. Another piece to her game of thrones, another tool she used just as it had always been," he said, his voice laced with hurt and confusion, but there was something else in there, too. There was an acceptance to it, a resignation.

"And...and do you think, should she send for you, you would go to her again?" Her voice was soft, trying to not allow the envy and longing to show.

"I don't know. Cersei and I are mirrors, we've always been mirrors. But I'm starting to think that I've fooled myself as much as she played me. Tyrion says I've always seen what she was, and I loved her anyway. Maybe that in part is true, but what I loved and what she is had long since changed. I think a large part of me knew and I denied it, or I told myself that I didn't care. That we were the same, and that it made it right," he told her, his green eyes in more pain than when she brought up his dead children.

She couldn't condemn him, for nothing she did would ease what he condemned himself for. Loving the wrong person wasn't a fault, so she nodded and told him, an echo of something he said to her long past, " I don't blame you. We don't get to choose whom we love, Ser Jaime."

If they did, she wouldn't choose to love two men that were unattainable and who would never love her back. She would have chosen to love someone like Tormund, who didn't fault her in the way other men had. But she couldn't love Tormund in that way; her heart belonged to the man sitting across from her. And while they had become comrades in arms, she felt nothing more for Tormund than a grudging respect as a fellow fighter.

He looked shocked at her words and a smile came to his face, a small, barely there smile. "No, we don't."

There was more he wanted to say, she knew, but he didn't open his mouth again. Instead he passed her the lye and their fingers touched and she wanted more than anything to be brave and say something. For his touch, no matter how accidental, mattered more to her than any words anyone else could have told her.

Words were wind anyway.

\-----

They didn't speak more for their bath; he had to force himself to look away as she got out of the spring, out of respect. And so that he didn't have to watch her retreating backside. Even if he wanted to desperately look, but that would be teasing him of the flesh he could never lay claim to. Could never graze his remaining hand on, though he wanted to. He wanted to touch and taste and love her, but after his confession, he was sure she wouldn't want anything more to do with him.

He didn't want her pity, but more than anything he wanted to sink into the bath and never come up again.

"Ser Jaime," she said and he looked up in an instant, disappointed and relieved to find the coat she had come with covering her frame.

"Yes, Ser Brienne." His voice might have come out a bit breathless. He hoped she took that for something else.

His cock seemed to have other ideas. The images of her coat laying on the stone, assaulted behind his eyes. Of her gasping his name, _Jaime_ , from her lips, and his lips trailing down, down her body, licking at the water sure to be dripping on her skin. Down until his lips reached the spot they sought with fever, the apex of her thighs, with him lapping at her cunt with enthusiasm. Enough to have her come around his tongue, his name screamed from her lips, echoing off the stone walls. The assaulting images his mind had conjured had to be pushed away and focus on what she was saying.

"Thank you for the trust you showed me, and for saving me during the battle. I know without a doubt I wouldn't be here if not for you," she said, her voice soft like her skin was sure to be.

"And I you, Ser Brienne. I told you before, I trust you," he told her without hesitation.

He thought he saw a smile playing at her lips, "So you've said. As I trust you and have for a long time. Good night, Ser Jaime."

He felt his heart stop and he couldn't breathe and yet she calmly walked away after her admittance. Had he been a braver man, he would have chased after her, got on his knees and confessed his love for her then and there. But, he was not. Therefore, he once more watched her walk away, back to her chambers he was sure.

He stayed in the water for a time, before he dressed in new clothing, a peace about him that hadn't been there when he had first entered the bath.

He left never knowing others watched from the shadows, one with suspicion in their gaze and the other with a smile hidden on their face.

-

He wished he was better at this, the courting of his lady, but he felt as if he was failing at something men have done before. Hell, it seemed Tyrion had better chances of wooing his once child bride than he had of wooing his warrior wench.

He could have gone to his brother, but that meant he'd have to sit through the questions Tyrion would have about his feelings for the woman he wished for his wife.

It took them two days to gather all the dead and build their pyres. Even though the Night King had been destroyed, it was Snow's habit.

3,000 warriors they lost. The other dead much grander. The Dragon Queen had decided to set them ablaze with her fire-breathing animals. Even the one that had fallen.

It had taken many hours of work to pile the dead away from the walls of the castle. The Stark children had discussed the crypts and decided to put them back together as best they could, after the war. They had to prioritize the next war. The war for that fucking throne of swords. The reason the Dragon Queen was even in Westeros, besides to lay waste to her family's enemies.

He knew that his usefulness had run out. They were going to ask him to leave, for they didn't trust him to plot his sister's murder, not that he wished to plot her demise, or even give them an advantage. It would serve no purpose. There would just be more bloodshed and more war. A Targaryen would now sit on the throne, and eventually there would be another war; there was always another war. War solved nothing, especially now that winter had come.

There was nothing for him here anyway. His brother and Brienne were his only support in the North, and he wasn't dumb enough to think his brother cared for him the same way he once did. As for Brienne, it was quite possible she was the only person that would think of him with fondness. Mayhaps it would be prudent to divulge everything before he left, before he was struck down by the Dragon or the Wolves.

Resolute in his decision, he would go to her chambers later and speak with her candidly about aiding him in writing the true record of his deeds, leaving it for someone else to spread the truth instead of the lies that had polluted his reputation for years, for he was surely to die soon. Brandon Stark had told him there would be nothing for him after the war, so he should make sure someone would remember him.

He couldn't provide her a life outside that of a hedge knight. Brienne had her own keep to think about when this was over. Maybe he could start over, on Tarth? Maybe he could go to Essos, to the Free Cities. He had much to think on, but he still needed to talk to his lady knight. With a determination he had thought ended in his unsureness, he went back to working on the pyre he was building.

-

The mass funeral was held and Jaime was secretly grateful that Brienne or Tyrion were not on a pyre, nor Podrick, the squire he had gifted Brienne. The lad had come a long way.

Watching the crowds, he wondered if they wished him on one instead. Probably. Especially the youngest Stark girl, with her dark eyes full of suspicion everytime their eyes met. If he wasn't under guest rights, she would stick her sword through him. After the funeral he would try to figure out the words he'd say first; he didn't want to come across as an idiot to Brienne.

\-----

His eyes followed his brother whenever he was near, contemplating how idiotic he was around his lady. He recalled them in King's Landing, walking together, plotting. Plotting to rescue his child wife from his demon monkey paws no doubt. Or mayhaps it was to free his wife from their sister's care.

Either way they failed, and yet, off the woman had gone with a Valyrian steel sword, his squire, and, if he recalled right, his brother's heart. He wasn't sure about the latter until he saw them again in the Dragon Pit, with the lion sword at her hip and the longing in both their gazes.

Jaime was hardly the subtle type, and she seemed not to have a clue how open she was about her affections to those around. Especially since she fondled the lion's pommel of her sword every chance she got, when she was nervous or watching Podrick in the yard. She fondled it like Tyrion suspected she wished she could fondle his brother's cock. He snorted into his drink. Isn't that what nearly all ladies wished? To fondle the once-golden Lion of Lannister's cock?

Well, most. Yet, watching his brother eye the lady knight like the fool he was when he was supposed to be enjoying dinner and drink with him, Tyrion thought she just might get the chance if only Jaime was brave enough to admit to himself and to his lady--er, Ser Brienne, that he wanted her to fondle his cock like she fondled her sword. 

"You should tell her you wish to bed her and ask her to have your future children. Children you'll be able to claim, though you might think to take her name, letting the Lannister one die a death our father never imagined happening. Jaime of Tarth has a nice ring to it, better than Jaime of House Lannister at any rate," he told his brother with a smirk.

Jaime's eyes redirected from watching his lady whilst she ate to eye him as if trying to find the best way to kill him. It was once a look only their sister and father gave him. Jaime had only given it to him when they met in the bowels of the keep, thanks to Bronn.

"Don't look so shocked, Jaime. You two are hardly as subtle as you wish everyone to believe. I saw it at the pit, as did everyone there, including our dear sister. Now. The question is, are you going to waste your chance? Or are you going to act on what's been in your heart for the gods only know how long? How long exactly have you been nursing this flame for our esteemed Lady Knight? Must be quite a tale, one which you neglected to tell me. You never told me you fell in love with someone other than our lovely sister."

He was teasing his brother, but there was still some hurt, for there were a great many things his brother neglected to tell him.

His brother drank deeply from his cup and returned his gaze to the blonde knight sitting next to his once child bride and the other Starks. The blonde woman looked interested in something the younger daughter of Eddard Stark was saying.

"I didn't tell you because it really is none of your business, little brother. Besides, I hadn't realized it until after you murdered our father. Though I now know you never killed Joffrey. Olenna had that honor, using your bride as her scapegoat. The Tyrells are gone, the Martells gone, the Baratheons, the Freys, and mayhaps even the Lannisters if the Dragon Queen has her way. All the Great Houses except Tully, Stark, and Arryn are dead. And Father wished for a legacy to last a thousand years, when it barely lasted more than an hour. It died with him." His brother was hardly the bitter type, or maybe he always had been and Tryion brushed it off, never understanding what King's Landing and their darling sister had done to him.

He drank from his cup before pouring himself another drink, his food as unappealing as this discussion.

"Regardless, I'd like to hear it sometime. But you're avoiding the question, brother. What are you going to do with your lady knight? Are you going to confess your undying love for her?"

In truth, he liked the tall woman; she made his brother happy, and for a long time that was all he wished for his brother. For him to be happy.

He watched his brother's face intently. The faraway look, the small frown on his face. He was going away inside. A tactic he had learned when dealing with too much. Then it changed. A small smile appeared and a lightness came over his eyes, almost like the clouds parting from a storm.

He didn't respond, leaving Tyrion guessing. But he supposed it wasn't any of his business, though he lifted his own cup to his brother in a sham of a toast. "You're an idiot if you let her slip through your fingers, brother. She is worth ten of our dear sister, and I hope you don't walk away from such a woman."

Jaime lifted his drink in response, and he hoped his brother took his words to heart. He'd talk to Lady Sansa later and mayhaps confer with her how best to help them if they failed to confess to one another.

They danced with one another like they danced with their steel; Tyrion was of the opinion they needed a dance of another kind.

-

After dinner and as much liquid courage as his brother was going to indulge, which in his opinion wasn't enough, Tyrion made his way to the table where the Starks were, taking his brother's lady's seat next to his once wife.

Lady Sansa looked at him with her Tully blue eyes and he bit back the quip of them drinking together unlike on their wedding night. Her gaze was sharp and calculating, as if determining his motives. Baelish had made her quite the player, not that she wasn't one before. She survived his family, and to him that was what counted.

"Do you think he'll do it?" the redheaded woman asked, sipping her drink as her eyes turned from him to the hall.

He looked at her, taking in her appearance but more than that, her confidence.

He smiled into his cup; his once caged bride had become a wolf, finally free. "I hope so, but should he fail, I had hoped that you and I could figure a way for them to admit what the whole of Winterfell knows. That they are perfect for each other. The Lady Knight and the One-Handed Knight."

He saw the tiny smile on her face from the corner of his eye and the tilting of her head. "You know you said something similar to me. I hadn't believed it then, but I do believe it about them. Do you have a plan, Tyrion?"

He smirked, "I might have a few. Would you like to hear them?"

The Lady of the Keep nodded and he toasted his cup towards her, much like he had done ages ago. Except this time she mimicked him, and he felt his heart squeeze in response. Maybe his brother wasn't the only one allowed to fall in love.

\-----

Jaime stood outside Brienne's door, the wine in him making him braver than he felt, even if it was only a single cup. He wasn't drunk, barely even tipsy on the piss that passed for wine in the North. All the alcohol had done was loosen the voices in his head, sounding much like his sister's and his father's, making them disappear.

All he had to do was knock and wait for her to answer. He made sure to wait until Brienne had left the hall to ensure she was in her rooms by the time he left. He had made sure that the redheaded wildling was still in his cups before leaving discreetly.

His brother cared, that much he had understood, which made him a little happy. Not that he needed his little brother's approval. Still, it was nice.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on her door, his golden hand being of use to make sure she heard him. He waited, shifting from leg to leg, wondering if he had made a mistake in doing this, in being here, if it would simply be better to head back to his chambers and forget about talking to her. About confessing things that would be of no use to her.

Before he decided to retreat to his chambers, the door was wrenched open and there stood Brienne. She looked as if she was preparing for bed, her armor had been discarded and her linen tunic looking disheveled. Though it was the shock in her eyes that he found captivating, like she couldn't believe he was here, as if the thought alone wasn't in the realm of her imagination.

"Ser Jaime, wh-what can I help you with? Does Lady Stark have need of me?" He rolled his eyes at her. Of course she would think her lady would send him, as if him wanting to be there himself was ridiculous. And maybe to her it was.

"No, last I saw, my brother was on his way over to talk with her. Probably reminiscing about the past or something. May I come in?" he asked, the voices starting to come back. He could feel the increase in his pulse and the knot in his belly.

He could push inside, but he wanted her to invite him into her rooms. Mayhaps ask him to stay.

She nodded briskly and moved to allow him past. With a smirk, he strolled past and into her room. She closed the door behind him.

-

He could say he confessed his undying love for her like his brother wished, and she swooned into his arms and he swept her off her feet, because he was strong enough, but it didn't run as smoothly as he wished for.

He lost his damn mind first. He ranting to settle his nerves as he did when he was overwhelmed with any emotion, and he more than once made a quip too close to the truth about his feelings and completely misguided her reasons for certain things. He was quite sure she was about to hit him at least twice.

But he got there eventually.

"I love you, you stubborn wench! I've loved you since before you left King's Landing and didn't realize it until we were in my tent at Riverrun and you offered me back my sword. It was a gift! And not only that, but it was the only thing I could give you that was mine!" He shouted at her when she asked him why he was talking to her about the past.

She spluttered, "Y--you can't! I'm not her! I'm not Cersei! I thought you only loved her!"

He grunted and took a sip of the wine he had been given. It was something for his hand to do so he didn’t reach for her. "Things change, wench. I didn't plan for this to happen. I didn't plan on falling in love with you. Hell, I never intended for you to find out. Out of options now. With the war against the Night King done, and the rest planning on heading South, I'll no longer be welcome here in Winterfell."

He paused to look at the inside of his empty cup, and then he continued, his mouth running away from him, "So I thought I would come and ask for you to think of me fondly, and once you go South with them to mayhaps see to it my story gets recorded in the White Book. Nothing too flashy or dramatic, but make sure to record my deeds as well as what I look like in there. So that at least a thousand years from now someone would know what Ser Jaime of House Lannister looked like. You could use blonde for the hair but not emeralds for eyes. Emeralds are dull, now Tourmaline are bright and distinguished. And mention how even at over forty, I'm still in great shape. Maybe one day someone will make a statue of me."

He looked at her through his lashes, saw her jaw clenched and her eyes like a storm from the ocean, something warring inside of her.

"Besides, I thought you noticed anyway. Since I've come here, I've been trying to show you how I feel by not being...well me. Being nicer to you, asking to fight with you in battle, knighting you. All acts to show you my affections. Of course you saw them as honorable...but what they also were...acts of love. Of my romantic love for you, if you'll have me?" He looked into her eyes with his heart bared to her, he placed the cup down, waiting.

She approached him, stepping into his space, her eyes telling him all of her hope and confusion and denial. She didn't believe him.

"You lie, ser! You would have me believe those acts were of love and yet I've looked in your eyes and they haven't once changed! Not since…" She stopped talking, and he saw the abrupt change as it came over her features.

_There it was_. That realization, the one he had at Riverrun after she came to his tent. When had he stopped looking at her with distaste and with reverence instead? With longing? With love?

"Since Harrenhal, since we said goodbye as I was leaving to go back to King's Landing, the first time you called me Ser Jaime. I thought Cersei and I were always going to be mirrors and were mirrors, but I have found a new reflection I have longed to see staring back at me. This one right here, the one in your eyes telling me what I didn't even know I wanted...until I did," he told her, using his remaining hand to gingerly cup her cheek. A bruise was forming around her opposite eye. His thumb brushed her cheek and he could feel her shiver even as she closed her eyes and she leaned into his touch.

He'd dreamt of this many times, a thousand different ways, but more than that he wanted...no _needed_ , to hear her words.

"And you? Do you love me as I do you?" His tone was hopeful, his heart a lump in his throat.

Slowly her eyes opened and she nodded, a terrified look replacing the realization from moments before.

"I do," she said, her tone breathless.

His heart settled and he couldn't help himself, he moved closer and pressed his lips to hers.

-

He looked over at her, the furs covering all the way to her chin, her eyes closed in sleep. He couldn't keep the smile from his face if he tried. It was everything and more than he ever dreamed.

And he had dreamt of it, multiple times over the years, but it couldn’t compare to this elation in his breast at her returning his love.

The first time had been soft, gentle, everything maidens dreamed. And Brienne may have been stronger than most men, but inside she was still much a woman longing for a knight and someone who loved her for who she was. He wished he could stay, but it wouldn't be allowed. It was never allowed, especially since she still had her reputation to consider. Being known as the Kingslayer’s Whore wouldn't be well received by her father.

As careful as any time he has done this to not awaken the sleeping woman beside him, he got up and carefully put back on his clothes.

"Was it that bad you don't wish to face me?" Her voice rang with sleep and regret and hurt.

"Of course that isn't it. It won't do for them to catch me here in your chambers, Brienne. Besides, I snore and I don't think you'd want to hear that again," he tried to explain, though he knew he'd done a poor job of it.

"Would you stay if I ask you to?" she whispered as if scared of the answer.

He smiled at her softly, undressed again, and climbed underneath her furs. She turned her body towards him and curled her fingers in his beard.

He leaned into her touch as she had earlier, and he kissed her palm, rubbing his cheek against her almost like a cat would. "How long do you want me to stay?"

She leaned closer so that he could count the freckles across her face, her blue eyes like the sea around her island in this light. "For as long as you'll have me."

Well, with a request like that, how could he resist pressing his lips to her own, with every intention of showing her without his words how long he wished to stay with her.

Forever. He wanted to stay with her forever if he could.

-

The next morning, he convinced her to come with him to the godswood, with Lady Stark, his brother and Podrick in attendance as they wrapped their cloaks around one another.

It mattered not whose name they took, for she was his and he was hers. From this day until their last day, come what may. 


End file.
